Stalling the Inevitable
by Binsfeld
Summary: Minific. Garrus and Shepard have a brief talk before heading out to take on TIM/Earth.  slight ME3 spoilers


"Did you know Tali's DRUNK?"

Shepard didn't look up from her datapad, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Yes. Did she explain that to you? I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a straw again without giggling."

"No, she… drunk dialed me, I believe Joker called it." Garrus came to join her on the couch, eyes flickering briefly towards the aquarium. For the first time since he'd known her, it was filled with fish. Fish with heartbeats. "Something about Miranda's more, ah, prominent… features. And then some joke about Protheans that was probably supposed to be dirty, but she kept forgetting the punchline. I think she might have called Javik before me. Poor bastard." He picked up the battered N7 helmet from its place of honor on the table and began turning it over and over in his hands. "I didn't think quarians could get drunk. Not safely, at least."

"Yeah, well, she seems to be enjoying herself. Mostly. I asked the doc to check in on her later." She lowered her datapad, glad for the reprieve. If she had to look at one more list of casualties, she was going to get violent. Or join Tali in the rec room. She watched as Garrus replaced the helmet and began looking around the room. "Why so restless?"

"What?" He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, looking faintly embarrassed at having been caught fidgeting. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." Her gaze dropped once more to the information in her hands. "It's this. Isn't it?" She tossed the datapad onto the table. "Tomorrow, I mean." She leaned back and rubbed at her face, hard. Her entire body ached with exhaustion, and her eyes were burning. Sleep was a luxury she didn't dare indulge in. Not with those damned dreams. She forced a light note into her voice. "This isn't exactly how I planned on taking you to Earth. I had something a bit more fun in mind. Like a beach. Pina Coladas. An amusement park, maybe. Because why the fuck not." She could feel her eyes beginning to smart again underneath her hands, and suppressed the infantile urge to cry with a fierce appliance of will. This was not the time to crack. She hadn't done so when Thessia fell or when her friends started dying around her, and she sure as hell wasn't going to do it now.

"It's this," Garrus corrected quietly, and she forced herself to lower her hands, face carefully neutral. The turian's hand was resting lightly on the N7 helmet.

"No Cerberus left to revive my ass if things go tits up tomorrow," Shepard agreed. "But hey, I thought we agreed not to mention the 'D' word."

"How about the 'A' word?"

"Ammunition?"

"Afraid."

She shifted uncomfortably, staring at the helmet rather than look at him. "I don't like that word much, either," she muttered.

"It's not really a recognized word in the turian dictionary, either," he remarked dryly. He sobered a moment later. "Shepard, you'd better watch your ass tomorrow."

"What if I'm too busy watching yours?"

It was a weak attempt at humor, and his mandibles flared in response. She shut up. He was being serious. She rubbed at her forehead, hard, to give herself a few seconds to control her expression. "I'll be careful if you will."

"I'm always careful."

She started to laugh, then caught herself. Her emotions were beginning to feel a little too raw to risk something that might end in unwanted tears.

"That's tomorrow," she said briskly, forcing a quick grin. "We can talk about it tomorrow. So, Vakarian, did you come up here just to tell me about our local drunken quarian, or did you have something more fun in mind?"

He still wanted to talk; she could see how tense he was. But she was through talking about it. If she had to think too hard about the possible consequences of the upcoming fight, she might just lose it, and Commander Goddamn Shepard did not cry in front of anybody. She got to her feet and pulled him to his. He let the conversation drop. Perhaps because he knew where it was leading.

Tomorrow, she promised herself.

Tomorrow they could do their goodbyes.


End file.
